


Harry New Year, Harry

by oldenuf2nb



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Post War, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-12
Updated: 2007-12-12
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldenuf2nb/pseuds/oldenuf2nb
Summary: Harry & Ron spend New Year's Eve together





	Harry New Year, Harry

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for the Secret Elf December 2007 Challenge for [Mapleandmahogany](viewuser.php?uid=811)

It was bitter cold, and a brutal wind was blowing, but no matter how many times Dawlish came to the doorway of the bunker and stared, and Ron could feel those eyes boring into the back of his head, he would not go back inside.  He couldn’t.  He couldn’t sit, he couldn’t rest.  His hands fidgeted and his knee bounced, and he was even driving himself crazy, but he couldn’t just…sit there.  Not now.  Not anymore.

They should have been back hours ago.  It was now eleven-fifty, and he knew, as did everyone else with him in that Spartan little bunker, that they’d been gone too long.  He stared unblinking out over the barren landscape, arms wrapped tight around his muscular chest, hands tucked into his arm pits, his eyes narrowed against the wind as he stared at the horizon line in the distance, but he wasn’t seeing it.  His mind was providing pictures that he didn’t want to acknowledge.  But as the time ticked away, and there was no sign of them, fear was a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“Weasley!” He turned his head and saw Kingsley standing in the lighted doorway, dark face drawn and hard.  “Get your arse in here!”  Ron didn’t answer; just shook his head tightly, his eyes going back to the horizon line.  

This was Shacklebolt’s fault; all of it.  Ron had known there would be a back lash when word of their relationship leaked out, had even known that the _Prophet_ would have a field day with them, but he’d never expected their Department Head to come up with some lame ‘it’s unprofessional’ excuse to separate them and assign them to new partners.  They’d been perfect together; they read one another’s thoughts, reacted to one another’s body language.  If it had been him with Harry tonight, instead of Finnigan, he wouldn’t be late.  He wouldn’t be ‘missing’.  He wouldn’t be…Ron clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached, trying to convince himself it was the wind making his eyes tear.  Oh god, if something had happened…

The sharp ‘crack’ of Apparition nearby sent a shot of adrenaline through Ron, and he jerked his head around.  There, about fifty meters away, he saw two figures where none had been moments before, the taller one supporting the shorter one as if the smaller man could not hold himself up.  Heart slamming into his throat, Ron lurched across the uneven, frozen ground even as he heard the sound of stamping feet as the bunker behind him emptied.

He reached them first, his hands going out to catch Seamus under the arms just as Harry’s knees gave way.  He landed hard on the ground, head hanging even as Ron caught and prevented Seamus from collapsing.  He looked down at the dark head, saw blood on Harry’s pale throat.  “Harry,” he gasped, fingers sinking into Seamus’ biceps.  “Harry, look at me.”

“Easy, Weasley,” Seamus complained breathlessly.  “Me legs broke.  I’d as soon ya’ didn’t break me arm to go with it.”

“Sorry, Seamus,” Ron said quickly even as Dawlish and Bergeron took the small Irishman and lifted him between them, heading back for the lights and warmth of the bunker. 

“Potter, what in hell happened?” Shacklebolt was demanding.  Harry was taking deep, uneven breaths, and Ron noticed that he was clutching his left side with his right hand. 

“It was a set up,” Harry said harshly, head lifting.  His face was covered in what looked like soot, and there was a scrape on his nose.  “The place was booby trapped.  Blew sky-high the moment we tripped the wards.”

Shacklebolt cursed colorfully.  “Are you all right?” he asked Harry pointedly.  Harry nodded wearily, his eyes finally shifting to Ron.  

“Hey,” he said, managing a lopsided smile. 

“Hey,” Ron responded, knowing he sounded suffocated but unable to help it.  Shacklebolt looked between the two of them, at Harry’s haggard face and Ron’s anguished one, and turned back toward the bunker.  

“We’ll need to debrief,” he said gruffly.  

“Yes, sir,” Harry answered, still not taking his eyes from Ron’s face.  

“Soon,” Kingsley said emphatically, and then stalked away. 

Harry stared at Ron for a moment longer, and then weakly lifted his right hand.  Ron clasped it in his and with little effort lifted the man to his feet, then pulled him into his arms.  He wrapped his arms tight around Harry, and he hissed and stiffened.  Ron immediately pulled back.  “You’re hurt,” he said, his voice rough with accusation.

Harry shook his head.  “Just bruised,” he murmured.  “Come back here.  Just don’t squeeze so hard.”

Ron took him back into his strong arms and held him, and the hours of strain broke through his restraint, and he began to tremble.  

“Easy,” Harry said gently.  “Easy; it’s all right.  I’m all right.”

“Christ, I can’t do this,” Ron said in an agonized voice.  “He’s got to put us back together, because I can’t sit here while you’re out there…”

“Shh,” Harry breathed against his ear.  “Shhh, it’s all right…” He leaned back then and took Ron’s face between his hands and brought their mouths together, and Ron felt the fear and the tension drain away as Harry’s tongue sought and found entrance, and curled along his own in a smooth caress.  His hands slid around Harry’s strong back and held him gently as the kiss lengthened and deepened, and Harry’s hands slid down to Ron’s arse and pulled him in, bringing their bodies together from knees to necks.  When they finally drew back, they stared into one another’s eyes, and in the distance, a church bell began to toll midnight. 

“Happy New Year, Ron,” Harry whispered, a crooked smile pulling at his lips.  Ron stared into the green eyes for a long moment, and then he closed his and rested his forehead against Harry’s. 

“Happy New Year, Harry,” he whispered in response, heart in his throat.  They stood that way for a long time.  


End file.
